Thursday, September 10, 2020

My Muddled Sting

I have updated yesterday’s post with a link to my personal blog.  I will still have updates on the happenings with The Fultz kiddos, but will be dedicated to a more raw and honest glimpse of my own experiences and reflections.

Thank you for loving our family through so many years of life lived courageously.


Miss Crys

You can follow me at My Muddled Sting.

Wednesday, September 9, 2020

All Good Things End

 Updated 9/10/2020–Scroll to the end for information...

As with life itself, all good things end, whole things break, hearts are broken, time is lost, love turns cold, dreams turn to nightmares, and death eventually grabs hold.  

Life has sucked the blood from me, and I’m left at a crossroad to push for chaos to “magically”change into order, or to throw my hands up in surrender.  I’m designed to do the first, because I have the heart of a fighter, but my heart is saying to do the latter.  How that works?  I don’t know.  How you stay true to being a fighter when all the fight in your weak and defeated corpse fades is beyond my understanding.  But, would relinquishing that control and surrendering to defeat give me that small surge to keep going for the sake of the few innocent souls who need me, or would I write my own eulogy? 

I’ve lived my entire life by faith and hard work.  I’m seeing faith has gotten me very little, and hard work has been my only companion to change and peace.  

As well, I’m seeing I was trained, and have further witnessed, that I do life alone best.  It is a cruel life, but my life spent trying to cleave to love has been cruel as well.  When I do it alone, at least I am the only one hurting.  Maybe that’s what’s meant to come of this broken road—I’ll always give love and support for my children to have something better while I accept the cards dealt and throw in the towel to anything but the purpose of supporting my children before it gets messier.  I likely have no time for much else, and I just don’t want to hurt anymore.  But far beyond that, I don’t want to be a part of another persons pain.  Another person I have loved strong enough to accept I must relinquish and put an end to inevitable destruction I am likely a big part of.  In times like these, where the pain is so raw, wounds are gushing, and life is draining by the second, it is hard to believe the old adage, “It is better to have love and lost than to have never loved at all.”  

Is it better?  

I’ll tell you when the wounds don’t hurt so bad.  That will take a lot of time, patience, and maybe some numbing.

Today, it feels frightening and empty.

Sadly, the culmination of my experience has turned my heart far from the belief that all things work together for our good, and I’ve grown cynical to the idea that faith, hope, and love are the foundations of happiness.  There is no amount of faith that can move a mountain without getting out and moving those feet.  Hope doesn’t create a life of abundance, meticulous planning and follow through do.  And love...well, it always has a vice—so get use to being disappointed.

The foundations of happiness are likely choice and respect.  

I have screwed up many times.  I kick myself to the ground when I fall, and I carry a very heavy weight for  every hurt that I have instilled upon another’s heart.  

But my heart is hurting too. It’s been beaten, bruised, and broken;  the only hands that can fix it will somehow have to be my own.  The irony of that?  These hands are barely holding on.  

I am certain of many things in life.  Unfortunately, the larger list comprises the bitter fruits of pain, loneliness, and even death.  It has taken root from so many darts; fathers who leave, mothers who suffer, cry, and struggle, children who live with feelings of being burdensome and annoying, best friends who depart, spouses who instill pain and mistrust, children who die, bodies that fail, homes which are lost, time that runs short, darkness that consumes, and then the light that finally burns out.  That light of possibility, newness, forgiveness, redemption, friendship, love, safety, and peace begins looking more like a flicker, until one day it is so cold and damp from the long drawn out years of loneliness and tears.  It is then that the spark is no longer strong enough to keep a flame amongst the elements of fate hailing down.  Like a thief in the night, it is lost.  Recovering the light, in itself, feels fatalistic.  If you do that you have to give a go at those unfounded virtues you once cleaved to.  Living without it seems the easiest path, but with that comes the consequences of deepening resentment and cynicism—both of which I have feared for so very long.

I have lived with my heart at the surface—willing to love and so very willing to endure pain and hardship.  I am too broken to keep up with the innocence and trust that one needs to live a life of that magnitude.  I guess this is how hard exteriors are casted.

People disappoint, and that is perfectly okay with me.  I have disappointed many, and live with anger, loneliness, and hatred for myself that I have done an injustice to the people I love.  I likely deserve the loneliness I feel with how I have let others down.  I would rather carry the pain of my misdeeds and failures than to put someone I love in harms way—even my enemies who hurt at my hands disturb my sleep.  We all must face the day when we find if we are capable of withstanding life alone, in one sense or another.  I just never really understood how big alone would feel until now.

I’m tired of all the give it takes to walk my path.

I’m tired of the pain my heart must carry because it chose to trust and love.

I’m tired of counting on myself.

I’m tired of surviving.

I’m tired of losing.

I’m just tired.

From one long hard day, into a sleepless night, and onto the next heart suffering like mine...I can’t give you hope.  I’m sorry, mine is lost.

Just breathe, 

Miss Crys

I will likely be closing out this family blog in pursuit of change.  Details to come as I let the winds carry me for a time.  All things end.

To follow my personal journey with glimpses of hope, as they come, I will be posting on My Muddled Sting—

Thank you for your faithful following.

Monday, July 27, 2020

The Life Daddy Gave

Dear Daddy—

You came to me last night.  I wasn’t sure if I was awake when you arrived or not, but I felt you coming.  At one point, I was very conscious of your presence with me—I could see your strong stout figure as you approached, light shone from behind you, and I saw the smile you always give me when we are together.  I know the look of concern you give is the other frequent expression on your face, and it
is so often nestled with the love, but this time you just looked so happy to see me.  I walked towards you and felt the path I had always walked into your arms hundreds of times over come to mind as we did this walk last night.  You took me in your arms—protectively, lovingly, and with great honor.  Thank you for loving me that much Daddy—that even though I have lived a life of pain and hardship that is remembered by the trail of tears I leave with each step I take—even though I fall down and repeat the mistakes I’ve made again and again—you still feel honor when you hold me.  

Maybe that’s the gift of knowing me a little more completely now?  I truly don’t know.  I can imagine that to you, I am not a linear span of time in your life—perhaps it’s as if all of our moments together can now be put into one big picture.  Maybe now you can see me with 360 degree vision—where you fully comprehend the things about me that made you so weary and fearful that the love between us wasn’t as deep on my end as it was on yours.  Can you see now that my love and longing for you has always been there?  Can you see that none of the fears you had about us were founded upon anything that ever happened between us, they weren’t even related to us—they were just related to me and all of these rocks and heartaches I’ve been carrying for so long.  I imagine you are hearing the things I never told you and are so much more capable of helping me now that your bag of awful burdens has been laid down—now that you can be with me no matter what barriers of distance , frailty, and heart are between us.  I hope you are here more than ever because I need you now...more than ever.  

I miss you Daddy. I miss you so so much.  I’m still that fragile little girl who shed tears in high school because we had to go back home too soon on a weekend we had with you—only now I’m shedding those tears because it feels like you were called home too soon, and I didn’t have enough time to tell you all the things I needed you to hear.  I had been trying to save my life and sending out little silent pleas to you as the isolation of cancer treatment and reovery turned what was already too hard for me to bear into something I almost couldn’t escape.  Right as you were leaving this world, I was coming to gain intuition and determination to change the course of my life—the week you died was my first week on a new path that could potentially end much of my suffering.  Your life ended as mine was being given back to me—were you a part of that magic?  I can’t help but wonder if the baby girl you held so proudly and gave life to with beautiful Mom is the baby girl you were willing to part from and give a little bit of you over to in order to give me life and hope again....  Thank you for all the life you gave. 

But I never did call you when you told me to reach out to you on the days when I was so lonely and couldn’t take it anymore after I nearly died.  If I lived true to that promise, I woulda called you everyday for the last 16 months of your life...but I know you understand that reaching out when you’re letting go is impossible.  I was letting go.  But I think I’m okay now Daddy. You had to have been a part of that process, though I know for certain I had to dig deeper than I’ve ever dug before to be able to say I’m okay.  You have to be a part of the magic that is literally breathing some life into me again.  Thank you Daddy....

I miss you...
I miss you so much....

You’re little Nightingale,
Crystal Marie

Monday, July 13, 2020


From a very early age, we are all taught how to overcome tribulation and pain.  When we fall, our instinct is to look for someone who can help pick us up and lift our spirits to ease the pain as we fight to feel better and be whole again.  

I’ve trained myself to do the opposite of that principle.  Some of it has been a consequence of facing afflictions that are very hard for the people I rely on to understand, or because I felt as though the heartache and repeated string of suffering became too much for my friends and family to bear with me, even if it wasn’t true, and so I remained quiet and bore the grief in isolation.  Yet, some of it is because I didn’t have the energy or time to reach out and let someone know I needed help.  It has taken a lot of holding on and letting go minute by minute to stay alive, and it is still continuing.  I have a plethora of problems, both physical and mental, that I have to manage—some of them take an extreme amount of time, and some of them just take a lot of energy, but they all take work—so it goes with everything in our mortal state.  If we cease working on ourselves, houses, cars, relationships, etc.—they die.  I have been near death too many times, and have problems that will put me near it again if I don’t manage them well—and I don’t want that, not yet.  So if I’m pretty quiet, I’m either really struggling or working too hard on managing my body— it’s seen a lot of trauma and is in need of a lot of tender care.  I am trying. Going through as many health traumas as I have, I’m assuming others can assimilate, places you in a state of fear with getting phone calls from doctors, going to silly little check-ups, and then doing the big visits where you see if cancer has returned.  I have many more visits beyond that, and have had to learn to mentally push myself on those days so that I can get help, but it’s not easy.  Accepting that this is my life is the hardest part though—living with broken hearts, lost time, dreams unfulfilled, and too much bad memory has been my lot for the last while.  I am trying to learn how to let go and move forward, but I can’t do it alone.  I need family, friends, prayer, meditation, and good books to fuel me forward.  I trust few with the details of my journey, and that’s okay right now—at least those few are there to hear my frantic pleas and keep me grounded.  I cant carry this alone, I became a broken mess when I tried.  I am different now, and have feared coming into the world as the person I am, because I loved the person I was.  Yet, there is new found wisdom in who I am now, and I wouldn’t trade it for the person I was.  The biggest change is perspective—to see things deeply, with greater understanding and intensity, to know sorrow that runs in the pulsations of the heart, and to find that nothing is guaranteed.  Life is very short, and moments are all we really have.  It is okay to have a hard time, but we can still love through the hard times—we can still make mistakes, but we can try to recover a little faster as well so we don’t live with too much undone when we are called home for a period of rest.  It is definitely okay to be flawed, don’t try too hard to be perfect, accept yourself and make changes a little at a time so that you can decrease the suffering you may place on yourself or others.  Love isn’t all you need, but it is what we can freely give and accept, and it is transmitted by words, actions, and raw honesty with who we really are and hope to be, and most of all, acceptance for ourselves and the people we love. It may rattle us to the core to feel the angst we cause others, and have had done to us, but there is always a path forward—don’t let anyone tell you that you’ve fallen too far to be loved and respected—someone is there to love you.  They may be the person in front of you, or the person that came to mind when you were at your lowest, and even the person in a dream that has long been gone and somehow has a way with making you feel loved and accepted.  Just listen with stillness and your lifeline will be given to you when you need it.  All is not lost, it’s just changing.

My sweet little Gavin, in his young innocence, fell on the sidewalk recently.  He was beside himself in agony as he made his worst landing to date.  I was alone with him, and the ache in my heart was just as bad as the torn skin on his knees.  I picked him up, as he laid in his sad screaming state on the sidewalk, and carried him quickly to the car, curled him in my arms on my lap, and waited for my daughters to rush the band-aides out to us.  He was gasping for air because he could see all of the blood dripping down his leg, and he called it, “pain”.  After  I got him bandaged up, buckled into his seat, and ww were on our way, he quietly told me, “thank you for saving me mommy, you’re like a’re like Batgirl.”  My heart melted.  It took little work on my part to carry him in his sorrows, but the bulk of the work came from the area of the heart—how much I was willing to invest in his “pain”.  Once we make that decision to invest in someone’s pain, no matter how trivial or gigantic we may think it is, we must put the patience, tolerance, and love into them so that we don’t have them feeling like they are either too small, or too big, for our time and agendas.  The choice is easy to make, the work is the hard part, and at ties that is completely opposite. As the Savior says, I’d rather you be either hot or cold, but not lukewarm (paraphrased slightly).  We love or we don’t, but going half way can lead to broken hearts.  Of course, mercy must be weighed in because none of us think of love the same way, or need the same things, but if you learn how to listen to others, they tell you exactly what they need—either by vocalization or observation.

When it was time to give up the band-aides, Gavin looked at me with sadness and said that he just wanted them to look like this—he then proceeded to show me the skin on the palm of his hands—beautiful, perfect, and whole.  I told him he was in the healing process and one day it will look very whole again, even if it’s not perfect, but until then, we can be brave, strong, and know that we are getting better (a hint of foresight into his next fall!). 

We all have to let go of wounds, and be brave enough work through the healing process—it is tough.  Gavin’s pain  is just as hard as my pain—once we remember that, we can play the healing game with respect, and most of

I love you dear son, my little man.

Mommy’s got your back, is in your corner, and will wrap those wounds and give you nourishment so you can keep fighting.  Thanks for doing that very thing for me by being you. 

With all the love a mother can give—

Sunday, June 14, 2020


For  anyone who has waited to hear, I’m still ticking.  

My body is a well oiled clock which has been repaired many times over, that will one day see it’s hands stand still.

But today, I’m here...

Ticking away!

Love—Miss Crys


How do your really measure experience?  How do you even measure love and memory?  Time is such a temporal and mortal frame of reference and a blurry measurement that is, in itself, so finite to man.

But man....and not finite.  Nor are memories and experience—they are all infinite, eternal, and ongoing.

It is my belief after having had so much experience in such a short lifetime, that one thing is certain—there is no real end to the miraculous consciousness within us, no end to the experiences we have, the ladders we climb, the love we can give and receive, and the hope we have in something more.  Not to say that what we have is never enough, but to elude to a more complete, fair, joyous, and perfect existence with those we are temporally close to in proximity, AND those whom we love who have been separated by distance in this lifetime, this life...time; life and time seem to hold two truths, in our mortal trained thought, they both come to an end, but they both actually move on—ironically.  What we began here commenced before, and whom we love here,  we have loved before. What ends here, only moves on, and whom we love here are always a part of us...I have no doubt of these truths. 

Much has happened in the 39 years I have lived. I can recall handfuls of moments that were too close to deaths door to say that my life is an accident, and will ever end as such.  God has carried me in His tender hands and preserved me, though He’s let me walk in the fire in order to learn as much as I can about how to love and succor those who are His—all of God’s children.  I have kicked and tantrumed through some of His paths, begged for escape, and I have even walked that awful line when I have wished the end of this mortal journey upon myself, knowing that I don’t have all knowledge and God would surely understand the limited vision I had and quickly forgive me of such a plea.  I am certain He knew every ounce of knowledge and suffering brought into those moments, and was more concerned with loving me through them over condemning me for the gift of this journey.  This has been taught to me by experience alone—we can only know suffering and unconditional once we have suffered, and it is foolish to think we can understand, judge, our even offer wisdom to another until we have walked in their shoes; until then, we just love as best as we can.  Only love...

God is love.

Were it not for our experiences and even imperfect memories, we wouldn’t come to understand Him so well.

I type this as my daughters are thumbing through all of their memorabilia and showing things to me, old jewelry and trinkets from their life and saying, “Remember this?”  They follow it with a cute story of their recollection, and I have my own story that I can add to it in order to bring a whole truth to our little truths combined.  

A lot has happened in the last 3.5 years...I can’t believe I’m saying that because it means I haven’t done one of my most needful things in way too long—write, recall, remember. But when you are in survival mode, you can literally only survive and pray that all the little energy that you have is enough for each day.  I had to let a lot of things go, but every first few priorities on the needful list— in it’s own way, however I could perform it at the time—got done.

To start the next transition of my journey here are a few of my children—all of my children are the loves of my life.  Miss Maya just celebrated her 10th Birthday this year—and she surely made the most of it, as I had just been in surgery the day before her Birthday.  Good thing the Birthdays all have a quarantine theme to them lately—drive by visits from the Fultz grandparents with social distancing conversations, wiping gifts off with disinfectant before they enter the house, and living by faith that the cake makers did a good job with their food hygiene skills—so far, we’ve been fine!

Of course, little man got in on the “burrfday” action as well, because every Birthday is his Birthday too these days. He has a knack for stealing your heart with every glance, word, and very tender touch.    This little man is the twinkle in my eye, the pep in my step, the salt on my lemon, and the sunshine in my cloudy skies—he has made my life journey so full,even in such brokenness.  It has been a joy to watch as the two youngest children gravitate towards each other in play time—I still have some pure innocence in the home!

 Maya has been so involved in art and style this year. She is also an excellent runner. She ran several 5k’s in the last several years and was training for her 3rd 5k when coronavirus took the kids out of school and out of group training. 

This is a tired me with the Birthday girl—this was a day after major surgery for me, so I am trying my hardest but feeling a little off.

Birthday kisses!

and Birthday FUN!

I love you little love...Maya you make every day wonderful and fun—thank you for the last 10 years. You have a sensitive and tender spirit and can love beyond measure; always love, but learn to protect your heart and find calm in your storms.  You are always enough—you are divine! I love you little girl...Mommy

Sunday, August 13, 2017

Ramblings of Tender Times...

I haven't paused to consider some of the real aspects of how my appearance has changed so drastically over this last year.  I have never known the shape of my own head, so I took a picture of's much rounder than I thought!  Yay!!!  Note, my skin is always a bit on the unhealthy tone, no profile eyelashes when they once were naturally so very long, and no defining eyebrows--but I still have that classic flipped up nose that my hubby fell in love with many years ago.

This was an attempt to sleep in my girls bed one night, as we have tried to do that since I have regained a bit of strength.  We watch a movie on my laptop and fall asleep cuddled together tightly.  Maya and I were still awake but trying to sleep, so I took this image, but the flash made us look like we were sleeping already!  HAHA!  Never know what reality is in just a picture!

Daddy and Lydia were sitting tightly in this armchair, while Maya classically photo bombed their moment--but that was meant to be, a Daddy and his girls will always create beauty.

Just yesterday, I caught my oldest and youngest son wearing shirts for me.  Gavin's shirt says, "I wear pink for my Mom!" and Connor's says, "We all fight together."  The pink shirt was a fundraiser for me from my Aunt Marla early on in my battle.

Here we have Aiden making a goofy face, and that's just the nature of my dear son--always making me smile!
Then in life, we catch the most tender of moments...sweet Maya loving her little brother....
And then sweet Lydia, giddy with the precious naked baby on her lap.  She has learned already that life is so much more complete with a beautiful baby in your arms.